I have Tourette’s Syndrome. It’s a diagnosis I have had for around a year, but tics aren’t anything new to me. I grew up with a small shoulder tic, but the stress of schooling in a pandemic led to developing a much wider range. This range includes verbal tics and can sometimes inhibit my ability to be as independent as I want to be.
I remember in high school, before I had even gotten a diagnosis, a “friend” would tease me for my tics, and I was no stranger to odd glances. After this, I was terrified of college because nobody there knew me before my tics progressed. I was afraid I would only be my disability. It was the first thing I told my professors about me before a class had even started. I was apologizing for my disability before I even introduced myself.
However, I learned quickly how different college was from high school. I was pleasantly surprised about how accepting and willing to help the university and those within it could be.
Every professor has been nothing but kind, erasing my fear of being disruptive and replacing it with excitement for the class.
I discovered the Resource Center for Persons with Disabilities (RCPD) and was able to have some accommodations written for classes that help me to adjust when I am struggling with my tics. The most helpful accommodation is one that exists in my dorm room: my Emotional Support Animal, a black cat named Salem.
My university allows support animals in the dorm. Personally, the pressure offered by a cat laying on my chest or having her there to pet is helpful for distracting from stressors that could be the cause of a tic attack.
Outside of classes and the dorm, I have met more kind people than I can count. They distract me from tics, help to make sure I do not accidentally injure myself, and assure me there is no need to be apologetic.
I wish I could tell myself in high school how much easier it would be to have this disability when I got to college. I may have gotten the occasional odd glance or comment, but this campus and everyone in it have been nothing but understanding and loving. There is more than enough space for me and my tics.